


SPLASH FREE!

by cixth



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, DON'T BE FOOLED, M/M, this is actually stripper!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cixth/pseuds/cixth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a scale of one to ten—with ten being the time Haru had almost gotten them placed on Japan’s terrorism watch list—this was registering at least a seven in terms of stupidity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SPLASH FREE!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ad_Astra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra/gifts).



> ~~I actually can't write porn to save my life so this is really awkward HAHAHAHA~~

Makoto was never, ever taking a sick day ever again.

He’d arrived at the resolution after dragging himself into the office on Monday morning—having spent the previous week fighting off the plague he’d contracted due to staying out in the pouring rain looking everywhere for his precious kittens—only to discover that he was living a terrifying nightmare in an alternate universe.

The first thing he’d seen when he walked in had been his crazy partner, Nagisa Hazuki, perched upon his desk swinging his legs and looking for all the world like an innocent angel—which he was distinctively _not._ Nagisa had been whispering conspiratorially in Haru’s ear, which wouldn’t have had been too terrible if not for the fact that instead of ignoring Nagisa like most _sane_ people usually did, Haru seemed to be giving Nagisa the time of day which _definitely_ spelt out doom and disaster—Makoto’s nerves tingled with a sense of dread as Nagisa looked up and spotted him, throwing him a wicked smirk. His suspicions were further raised when Haru looked up and only leaned back to whisper something to Nagisa.

Before Makoto had time to rush over and check to see if Haru was okay and not feeling well and unmask the imposter that was posing as his best friend, their boss pulled him aside and explained how in the week Makoto had been out sick, they’d gotten a tip on a drug trafficking operation in a nightclub in Shibuya and that he and Nagisa had been assigned to the case.

Makoto had simply nodded in affirmation—nightclubs in Shibuya were notorious for attracting young people and if preventing them from taking illicit drugs that could do much damage, the sooner they shut down the ring, the better. He’d taken the folder housing their assignment and flipped it open, only for the blood to drain from his face.

‘ _No_ ,’ he’d breathed out in horror ignoring the less than pleased look Miho was giving him. ‘I-I can’t do this!’ To which Miho had simply smiled serenely at him and not bothered to reply because she was simply _evil._

As it would happen, Makoto had no say in the matter for Nagisa had accepted the assignment a week ago and had conveniently forgotten to notify Makoto of the fact. He refused to admit that he was more hurt _Haru_ didn’t even tell him.

‘What were you thinking?!’ he demanded, which only caused Nagisa to look up at him with an angelic smile.

‘Why, Mako-chan! We haven’t gone clubbing in forever! Besides,’ here he somehow managed to pull off an obnoxious leer and pout at the same time, ‘I’d have thought this would be right up your alley—saving young college student and club goers from the evils of drugs.’

Makoto ignored the cheap jab at his implied hero complex (which he did _not_ have, okay), ‘You’re right,’ he agreed flippantly, ‘but that’s different from going undercover at a _strip club_.’

On a scale of one to ten—with ten being the time Haru had almost gotten them placed on Japan’s terrorism watch list—this was registering at _least_ a seven in terms of stupidity.

It was at this point, Miho walked past them on the way to her office, ‘Agent Hazuki,’ she’d said, voice pleasant, but with an underlying current of steel, ‘I’m sure that you can find more productive ways to spend your morning instead of bothering your partner. I would suggest you begin working on those reports I assigned you three weeks ago.’

‘Right away, Ma’am,’ Nagisa had chirped and slid of Makoto’s desk. He looked up at Makoto with a wide smirk, ‘I’ll let Haru-chan tell you everything else you need to know, Mako-chan! This will be fun. Trust me!’

Makoto frowned. That statement bothered him a bit. What else was there to need to know about the mission? Nagisa would infiltrate the ranks of the staff whilst Makoto would scout around for drug dealers on the club floor.

Of course, when he vocalised the perfectly reasonable and valid question, Haru had simply cast him one of those looks (the ones where he narrowed his eyes and made Makoto feel no more than five centimetres tall) and flatly stated, ‘Makoto is joining the staff.’

Feeling as though he’d been punched, Makoto reeled back and in an undignified splutter, squawked out, ‘What?! Shouldn’t Nagisa do it? He’s the one with those…. _special training sessions_.’

‘We agreed that Nagisa’s not qualified to play infiltrator. And besides, Makoto has also been trained by Nagisa. So it’s fine.’

-

Naturally, by the time the fateful night came, Makoto was a total and complete wreck.

‘ _Really_ , Nagisa what were you thinking?’ He was gripping the steering car of the wheel too tight and at every turn, the agency-issued car would lurch only serving to wreck the nervous butterflies in his stomach even more. ‘Is this revenge for something that happened a long time ago? Have I done something to offend you?’ Makoto wasn’t proud to admit that his voice wavered as though he were close to tears.

Nagisa was cheerily ignoring him. He had their mission dossier opened on his lap and was going through hemming and hawing at every little detail. He turned to look at Makoto and said in a serious tone, ‘Listen, Mako-chan. I heard from a little butterfly that Samezuka will be there tonight. We need to do our best to neutralise the target before them, okay?’

As if that made him feel any better. Samezuka and Iwatobi were rivals and while Iwatobi was on the side of the light so to speak, Samezuka was known for their cutthroat efficiency and rumours surrounded their agency like sharks to a bloodbath. Frankly, knowing that Samezuka also had agents vying for the target made Makoto feel even more pressured and despite knowing that Haru and Nagisa wouldn’t allow _actual_ harm to come to him, he was pensive about the events that would go down that night.

-

Makoto stared up at the gaudy, flashing neon sign proudly proclaiming the name _Splash Free!_ Thinking that the establishment looked more than a little seedy, especially with the sign proclaiming tonight to be ‘Amateur Night,’ he wasn’t really sure why the agency had wanted _him_ to be the one to pose as an undercover stripper (just thinking the words made his face flush and burn with embarrassment). Nagisa on the other hand, didn’t seem to share any of Makoto’s concerns and was instead bouncing with barely contained excitement babbling about how _fun_ this would be and _don’t worry, Mako-chan! I’ll be watching in the crowd the whole time,_ which didn’t serve to placate Makoto at all.

Groaning a bit, Makoto shouldered the duffle Nagisa and Haru had prepared for him and walked apprehensively to the back of the club and nervously clearing his throat a bit, nodded at the beefed up looking bouncer and hesitantly coughed out, ‘Uh, excuse me? I’m here for Amateur Night? Tachibana?’

Giving his clipboard a precursory check, the bouncer nodded and stepped aside allowing Makoto entrance into the establishment. Instantly, Makoto’s eyes were bombarded with flashing strobe lights and his ears were assaulted with loud, pounding club music. Slipping away to what he assumed served as dressing rooms, Makoto opened up the bag and cringed when he saw the costume he was to don for the evening.

A _fireman’s_ uniform.

Makoto could almost feel his grandparent’s turning in their grave if they were to hear of their eldest grandchild dressing up as a stripper; least of all a fireman stripper.

He took a deep breath and mentally reminded himself that this was for the good the nightlife of Shibuya. And at least he wasn’t dressed up as something more embarrassing—firemen were respectable citizens after all, right?

-

Makoto was really starting to hate his life. Not only was he in an extreme stage of undress in front of a _loud,_ public audience (he could see Haru as an undercover bartender working alongside a larger, broodier man), but his performing partner, an aggressive looking redhead dressed as a _cop_ of all things was grinding and gyrating against Makoto with more force than was really necessary.

If the catcalls that the audience was shrieking out were anything to go by though, at least some people were enjoying themselves. And if the setting were more private—and if he knew Matsuoka’s actual name—Makoto would shamelessly admit that he was enjoying the feel of the redhead’s body against his own.

…

Heck, if he was gonna be subjecting himself to public embarrassment (not to mention indecency), Makoto was determined to enjoy the experience—he’d just have to avoid Nagisa and Haru for the rest of his existence. Pushing his body back against the police officer, he let the other man run slender fingers—almost as thin as Haru’s, but stronger looking somehow—down his bare chest glimpsing over a nipple. He could feel Matsuoka grinding against his ass and the feel of a strong length against him made Makoto moan desperately.

It was made all the worse when he turned and saw that Matsuoka was throwing him a sharp—literally, his teeth were sharpened into _points._ Who even _did that?—_ grin and still (unfairly) fully dressed in his cop outfit. And it really should’ve been illegal for someone to look so good in an outfit that tight—not to mention how he was unfairly moving his hips in tauntingly, hypnotic swivels.  

(Makoto was _not_ whining).

And _really_ , it was only fair for Makoto to return the favour and put his own ‘special training’ to use: by treating Matsuoka’s body like a pole.

(He chose to ignore the catcall he heard from somewhere in the audience that he _swore_ came from Nagisa. He also distinctively chose to ignore the scandalised look he felt Haru shoot him from across the club).

-

After what felt like hours passed, Makoto was reduced to an aroused mess; his dick was straining against the gold lamé shorts Nagisa had picked out for him. It was _embarrassing_ how a _stranger_ in a _strip club_ of all places was able to make him feel this way.

To his complete relief, their time on the stage was up and Makoto rushed off the stage neglecting to collect the large number of bills that had been thrown onto the stage whilst he and Matsuoka had been stripping. He very pointedly did not look at the redhead whom was sporting a pair of tight, black Diesel shorts which barely passed for clothing.

Backstage, as Makoto tried to calm his beating heart and shake off the last vestiges of Matsuoka’s touch, a twink—twink _ette,_ really—grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards a backroom offering only a rushed out explanation that _thebossladysawyouandMatsuokaandwasreallyimpressedandwantsaprivateperformanceohmy_ god _youresolucky!_ and that there was no need to worry about ‘covering up.’

Flabbergasted, Makoto willingly let himself be manhandled by the twinkette (a strange word to describe the…boy? Man? Seeing as he looked almost as old Makoto albeit with all the glitter he was decked out in along with the head of shockingly bright bubblegum pink hair he gave off a younger aura). Makoto counted his lucky stars that Iwatobi would be lucky enough to be able to get close to the leader of the trafficking operation so quickly. Usually, their raids occurred in a much messier manner due to Nagisa getting overexcited or Haru tipping off the mark.

(Or Samezuka getting to the target before them—something which happened far too frequently for Miho to be happy with).

-

He was thrown without ceremony into a dimly lit room where only a single bright light was shining on a small platform placed in the centre of the large space. Makoto could only see the barest outline of a woman sitting on one of the plush looking couches placed around the stage. She spoke in a low voice, ordering him to stand on the stage.

Makoto complied nervously and rubbed the goose flesh making an appearance on his arm due to sheer nervousness and the lack of heating in the room. It was only a few moments later that Matsuoka stumbled into the room, snarling at an invisible ‘asshole’ to ‘not be so rough.’ When he straightened up, the redhead was wearing an irritated expression on his face that twisted into mild confusion when he saw Makoto.

Matsuoka’s mouth was open and poised to question Makoto when thankfully, the dim form from the sofas spoke up. ‘Boys,’ a pause for dramatic effect, ‘I was _very_ impressed with your performance on stage today—perhaps a private show, hmm?’ the voice trailed off in a teasing lilt; a voice of silk with an undercurrent of venomous steel.

Makoto was proud to say that he only choked a little at the proposal. Stripping in front of an audience was one thing, but doing anything more with a stranger—a _liability_ —was another.

He could in no way go along with what was requested in good conscience.

-

Makoto was going to hell. There was no doubt about it.

(He would swear to his grave that he’d tried to resist, but Haru would just flash Makoto a _look_ and _everyone_ knew he was being less than truthful).

It was a lot more awkward without the intense, thudding music that played throughout the interior of the club, but Makoto found that the trade-off was a more _intimate_ experience with Matsuoka. It was fortunate—or not—that neither were wearing much since with every move of Matsuoka’s body against his own, Makoto felt the bare flesh of the redhead against his own which served to only worsen the aching in his lower region.

He shuddered when Matsuoka let out a low chuckle and brushed a hand down his front and ghosted over his erection. A gentle squeeze had him bucking up into the grip and Makoto barely restrained a moan.

He ground his ass into Matsuoka’s front and was pleased to feel that the hard line he’d felt earlier hadn’t subsided—which meant the redhead was most likely in a similarly aroused state. Makoto was certain he’d be buried in a pile of red tape when he got back, but at this point he _needed_ gratification.

(It was unnerving acting this way in front of Iwatobi’s intended target, but the silence that permeated the room save for the heavy breathing of Makoto and Matsuoka made it easier).

One pair of shorts later, Makoto was naked. Any and all embarrassment he’d initially felt had been quickly brushed away by the pleased groan Matsuoka let out paired with the interested twitch Makoto’d felt against his backside.

He pressed back against the redhead’s dick and resisted the urge to beg. Matsuoka played with his balls, tugging and rolling them between his long fingers. Makoto’s cock was an angry-looking red and so hard that it was almost painful; precome dribbled liberally from the tip and when the redhead swiped a liberal amount and smeared it over the rest of his cock, Makoto let out a high whine and twisted in Matsuoka’s grasp to press an open mouthed kiss to the other.

It was a messy, wet kiss that would go down in no history books, but Makoto couldn’t bring himself to care—not when Matsuoka had a firm grip on his cock and pulled away only to mouth embarrassingly filthy things into his ear.

Things like, ‘I’d fuck you so hard if I could. Bet you’d look so good panting and begging—‘

—and the irony of the situation was that Makoto _was_ panting and begging, but Matsuoka wasn’t doing anything about it besides loosely stroking Makoto’s dick; the touch provided a tease of what Makoto wanted, but came nowhere close to giving it to him.

-

Makoto took matters into his own hands when after pressing into Matsuoka’s grip and receiving no reaction save for a cocky smirk and haughty _tsk tsk. Tachibana, good boys wait to get what they want. They don’t_ beg _for them._

(Dimly in the back of his mind, Makoto reasoned that he wasn’t _supposed_ to be a good boy. He was here for the target and the target only).

He dropped to his knees and ignored the flash of surprise that flitted across the redhead’s face when he did so. Instead, Makoto focused on the toothy smirk that replaced the surprise when the redhead realised Makoto’s intentions. Makoto pulled down Matsuoka’s shorts and reveled in the way the other’s cock jutted out proudly—it jerked and Makoto watched, fascinated, as precome spurted from the tip.

He mouthed at the tip of the cock, licking the slit and tasting the other man. Matsuoka’s hands hovered midair as though unsure of where to place them; it gave Makoto a rush of pride knowing that in the moment, Matsuoka was at his mercy.

Makoto took the head of Matsuoka’s cock into his mouth, giving the underside a few experimental strokes with his tongue.

Matsuoka quivered, and his hands finally landed; nestling in Makoto’s hair.

Makoto gripped Matsuoka’s hips for balance and committed the weight of Matsuoka’s cock on his tongue. He could feel the way the redhead shook, as though he were resisting the urge to thrust.

He’d fallen into a messy rhythm of sucking and was finding himself lost in the feeling of Matsuoka’s cock reaching the back of his throat when a strangled sound came from above him. Makoto pulled away with a wet _pop_ and watched as Matsuoka’s cock slapped wetly onto his stomach.

‘Okay, okay,’ Matsuoka sputtered out, looking almost hilariously constipated. He pulled Makoto up harshly and turned him around. He shoved three fingers into Makoto’s mouth and harshly ordered him to suck.

Stunned, but compliant, Makoto obediently applied himself to the task at hand, licking and sucking on the fingers coating them in saliva. When Matsuoka deemed his fingers satisfactorily wet, he removed them and slipped a hand in between Makoto’s thighs.

He pushed Makoto’s legs together and slipped his own dick in the tight gap that was created. ‘Next time,’ he panted into Makoto’s ear, ‘I’ll fuck you properly. Fuck you so hard you forget everything but the feeling of my cock inside you.’

Makoto _keened_ at the promise of a ‘next time’ and squeezed his legs harder together and moaned at the feeling of Matsuoka’s cock brushing against his own every time he pushed forward.

Matsuoka fucked in between his thighs at a hard pace and matched the speed of his stroke to Makoto’s cock with every thrust of his own. When Matsuoka’s rhythm began to stutter and slow, Makoto could _tell_ he was close.

Matsuoka came the same way he fucked, a force that seemed nigh unstoppable. The wet feeling of Matsuoka’s release served to drive Makoto further to his own, and he rocked his hips into Matsuoka’s fingers.

The redhead swiped a smear of come from the mess between Makoto’s thighs and slid a come covered finger into Makoto’s ass. The feeling of tight intrusion coupled with the wet slick he felt drove him to his own orgasm and he came with a shout. His release seemed endless in the way his hips jerked, come streaking his stomach and chest.

-

Makoto slumped against Matsuoka and turned his head, ready to try and cover the awkwardness when the doors to the room slammed open and Nagisa barreled in crying, ‘Don’t worry, Mako-chan! I’ll save you from Samezuka!’ He was followed by a hassled looking man, tall and thin with red glasses muttering something along the lines of _I should’ve known Iwatobi would be here. Dammit, Rin._

Makoto jerked and pulled away from Matsuoka like he’d been electrocuted, eyes so wide he was sure they looked like bug eyes. The redhead was wearing a similar expression of shock and almost at the same time, the two blurted out, ‘You work for Samezuka/Iwatobi?!’

Further discussion was prevented when loud police sirens came blasting from nowhere and teams of men burst into the room, Iwatobi and Samezuka alike. In the mass rush of arresting the target and shouting from both sides of who’d gotten to her first, Makoto was able to wrangle his shorts back on (though they offered little concealment of what had transpired in the room) and find out from a babbling Nagisa that Matsuoka was actually Matsuoka _Rin_ of Samezuka, older brother to Matsuoka Gou, the neutral agent in charge of communication between the two rival groups.

-

When the commotion had ceased and the majority of agents were gone save for Makoto, Nagisa, Haru and a few people from Samezuka (including Rin and his harried looking partner), Makoto awkwardly shifted his eyes to the redhead whom was talking with the tall, broody bartender Makoto had spotted earlier. Their conversation was going on heatedly if the wild gestures Rin was making and the furrowed eyebrows of the tall man were anything to go by.

His attention was distracted when Haru ambled casually over and gave Makoto an unimpressed look. Flushing with embarrassment, Makoto tried to defend himself, ‘Don’t look at me like that, Haru-chan! It’s all Nagisa’s fault.’

Haru didn’t say anything to Makoto’s flustered attempts at saving face and merely raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly behind Makoto.

He spun around and saw Rin looking terrifyingly aggressive with a sharp scowl and irritated expression. Makoto cringed and was ready to apologise when Rin dropped his scowl and spoke, ‘So. Iwatobi, eh? I won’t betray my team and don’t think you can convert me, but here,’ he handed Makoto a scrap of paper with numbers scrawled hastily on it, ‘text me. Please?’ The otherwise confident statement was made vulnerable by the tacked on question at the end and Makoto had to clamp down on his urge to beam broadly at Rin; sure that if he did so he’d lose all semblance of dignity and that Haru—not to mention Nagisa—would never let him live it down.

(Also, the broody man, whom was even larger up close, was looming behind Rin’s shoulder levelling Makoto a glare with his eyebrows).

‘Of course! I will. If I have the time, I mean.’ Makoto was almost certain that Rin could tell his falsified nonchalance was exactly that—falsified—if the broadening smirk he wore meant anything.

Rin walked away hints of mirth dancing around his eyes. ‘Alright. I’ll see you next time we’re on the job.’ He was walking away with Broody Eyebrows when he turned and flashed an all too appealing smile, ‘Or sooner, if you text.’

Makoto turned red and ignored the squeal Nagisa let out and _tried_ to ignore the warning look Haru was throwing him, and choked out, ‘A-Are you hitting on me?’

‘Maybe,’ Rin’s smirk was a dangerous thing, and Makoto shouldn’t have found it as appealing as he did, ‘why? Is it working?’

He tried, Makoto really did, but he was only human. And humans had _weaknesses,_ see. ‘I’ll let you know.’ And he turned back to look at his team—Nagisa beaming and almost vibrating with excitement, Haru looking for all the world like a parent whose child had just betrayed them.

-

A week later, Makoto was sitting at a coffee shop trying to complete his mission report when a solid thunk and the presence of a person sitting down startled him out of his paperwork. To his alarm, it was Dark and Broody of Samezuka wearing a displeased expression.

‘You haven’t texted. Rin’s been moping.’

Trying to calm his heart down from the shock he’d gotten at the appearance of the man, Makoto hastily explained, ‘My friend—Haru, he was at the,’ he felt his ears go red, ‘club—told me if I, uhh, texted too soon I’d look desperate.’ He blamed his lack of eloquence on the heavy atmosphere that followed Broody Eyebrows.

His explanation was met with a flat look, ‘Text Rin soon. I’m getting tired of his bitching.’ With those parting words, Dark and Broody left, leaving an untouched black coffee behind and Makoto with things to think about.

-

The following day, Makoto sent Rin a text – _It worked –_ and Rin really must’ve been waiting because when Makoto got a response almost right away, it was just a series of emoticons:

 _⁺_ _✧_ _.(_ _˃̶_ _ॣ_ _⌣_ _ॣ_ _˂̶_ _∗_ _̀)_ _ɞ_ _⁾_ _:DDDDDDD_

(Makoto wasn’t sure how the two of them had somehow mixed up the usual order of being in a relationship, but. He wasn’t complaining).

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~....I have no words for this disaster~~  
> 
> ~~except maybe to express my shock that this is the longest thing I've ever written by 3.052 words~~
> 
> [xpost](http://shiro.co.vu/post/102855121343/splash-free) on tumblr if that's your thing


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